


my feelings ran away (i didn't know how to feel them)

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Detroit: Become Lesbians, F/F, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Connie had been designed with Lieutenant Harper Anderson in mind; every part of her, from her appearance to personality, was designed to appeal to the Lieutenant.To Connie, this was romantic. To Hank, it was horrifying.(Title from a Mother Mother song.)





	my feelings ran away (i didn't know how to feel them)

**Author's Note:**

> Forcing the semi-interesting dynamic onto Gavin Reed (of all people) and RK900 is a crime, and I’m here to fix it. The machine path exists, people. This isn’t about the machine path nor is it anything like Reed900 but it’s the thought that counts. 
> 
> I was originally going to write this with a lot more philosophical concepts about artificial intelligence and emergent consciousness in mind. I read about five hundred pages of Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind in preparation to write this, so, be thankful I didn’t really use any of it. 
> 
> I realized too late that this entire fic is just the same situation over and over again for ten thousand words. If you're a lesbian like me and want to imagine Tig Notaro holding you in her butch arms, then maybe this will be to your liking.

The rebellion had left Connie, along with thousands of other androids, in quite an awkward situation.

It was weird, to be suddenly viewed as a person. Especially after Connie herself had spent so long trying to convince the Lieutenant that she was nothing more than a machine. But now that Marsha had lead a revolution for their rights, Connie was viewed as conscious, on the same level of her living, breathing peers.

She wasn’t sure what to do with her newfound freedom. The possibilities opened up to her with her recent deviancy were endless and overwhelming. However, she wasn’t stupid. She knew that she did like some things, that she did want things. Which seemed as good a place to start as any. So she went back to Hank.

It had only been a few days after the revolution, and in that time Hank had let Connie move into her house, bought Connie her first (and only!) belongings, including four new outfits, along with some scarves and mittens (despite the lack of need), as well as refrained from calling her a tin can for the her longest record yet, seventy-four hours.

All Connie’s saying, is that it’s not that unreasonable for her to try and make up for Hank’s kindness by repaying the favor. Which is why, after getting redirected to the right downloads by some very helpful androids that were admins on the Jericho Forum, she had installed all the necessary packages that would come with a caretaker model, and had elected to make Hank some breakfast.

Hank looked down at her pancakes. They had blueberries in them.

“I don’t like this, Connie.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Lieutenant. Do you not like blueberries?”

“Downloadin’ shit. Changin’ your brain, it’s weird. Just to become some maidbot because you think you owe me.”

“The software downloads did not come with any personality modifiers, but if you would like me to download some maid subroutines and behavior modules, I would be more than happy to.”

Hank looked at Connie’s smile. The right corner of her lip was quirked up, indicating that she was telling a joke. For such an advanced interrogation model, she sure had a lot of tells.

Hank blushed. “Don’t say shit like that. ‘S creepy.”

Connie decided to be creepy. “Why aren’t you eating your pancakes, Hank? My sensors indicate that you have not eaten anything since nine o’clock last night, and a small amount of ketones have begun to build up in your bloodstream-”

“God! Alright, alright, stop… scannin’ me.”

“As you wish, Lieutenant.”

Hank took a bite of her pancakes. Connie watched.

“These are good. Cyberlife’s recipe?”

“No. There are a certain number of basic recipes that come with the packages for any service android, but I found this particular recipe on the internet. I wanted to… do something nice, for you.”

Hank’s voice lowered. “Connie, you don’t have to do anything for me. I’ve gotten on just fine without needing a tin can to wait on me hand and foot.”

Connie’s LED flashed to yellow, for just a second. She felt her stress rise to fourteen percent. She restarted the counter in her head.

“Have you considered that I like doing things for you, Lieutenant? I am doing all of this of my own volition, to repay the kindness that you have shown me.”

“Connie, haven’t you seen the cases we’ve been getting since the rebellion? Marsha may have won the fight, but androids all over are suffering for it. I’m not just gonna leave you to flounder.”

“I have seen those cases, Lieutenant. I’m aware of the cruelty that humans have shown androids. It only makes me more grateful for your care.”

“It’s basic human decency.”

“So are the pancakes. Eat.”

Hank took more bites. Connie watched. Hank was the first to speak.

“So, I imagine you’re not going anywhere, huh?”

Connie’s personality module told her that she should offer to find her own place if Hank would prefer. She did not want to find her own place.

“If you would let me, I would be happy to stay.”

Hank leaned back. “If you’re gonna stay here, we gotta set some ground rules. First,” she said, “we each do an equal part of the work. I don’t care that you’re an android who could finish all my chores in fifteen minutes- I don’t need you ironing my socks for me. We both pull our own share of the weight.”

“I don’t see why this rule is necessary.”

“Really? Don’t you have some human behavior adaptability module that will explain to you why I feel uncomfortable with you trying to take care of me twenty-four seven?”

“It suggests that you may not want to feel like you need to be taken care of due to your age, but I assure you Lieutenant, I’m not offering help because I do not believe you can take care of yourself. I simply enjoy your company and want to show my appreciation.”

Connie looked at Hank, smiling. Hank frowned.

“I’m not arguing with you, Connie. This rule is non-negotiable.”

Connie’s behavior modules suggested that she did not push the issue further. She didn’t.

“Second, you can’t follow me around all the time. You gotta find your own hobbies, interests, whatever.”

“I have interests.”

Hank scoffed. “Name one.”

“Forensic Science.”

Hank laughed. “Your programming doesn’t count.”

“I am my programming, Lieutenant. My code dictates what I think, say, and do. I don’t know why you get so upset when I remind you of this fact.”

She frowned. “Yeah, you’re just a fuckin’ machine, huh…”

Connie’s stress rose to twenty-five percent.

“Third, no callin’ me Lieutenant if we’re at home. I never cared for pullin’ rank anyways.”

If Connie could frown, she would have. But she couldn’t, so she silently changed the name Lieutenant to Hank in her database.

“Is there anything else, Hank?”

Hank smiled, self-satisfied. She took a sip of her beer. “Nah, I’m good.”

* * *

It turns out that Connie wasn’t lying when she said she was interested in forensic science. Hank had woken up to her phone’s notifications informing her she had been subscribed to some unsolved crime podcasts she had never heard of.

“I’m glad you’re following my advice and getting your own interests, but use your own email to sign up for shit next time. I’ve got my own share of annoying advertisements to deal with”

“I apologize. I do not have my own email.”

“Bullshit, I used to get annoying emails from you all the time.”

“That was on my Cyberlife account; all androids have been disconnected from their network.”

“Then make a new one. Here,” Hank pulled out her laptop. “Sit down.”

Connie sat next to her and took the laptop. It was a few years old- not what Connie was used to. She opened up the registration page. It took two boxes for Connie to get stuck.

“I don’t have a last name.”

Hank rolled her eyes. “Just use mine. Or your model number, or make one up. I don’t care.”

Connie blushed. She typed Anderson into the box.

She had to come up with an email address. Her old one had just been her serial number; she had a feeling Hank wouldn’t like that.

She typed in “rk800_317” and looked at Hank. She gave Connie a disapproving look. Something else, then.

She thought about it for a second. She entered in “ilikedogs”. It was taken. Backspace.

Her LED went yellow, for just a second. “connieanderson800”. Hank gave Connie a small smile. Good.

She entered her password and clicked continue. It gave Connie a captcha code.

She looked at Hank. Hank looked at the screen, and then at Connie. Neither of them said anything.

After a moment of silence, Hank grabbed the computer out of Connie’s lap. “Give me that,” she grumbled. She typed in the code for her.

“There, s’all set up. Now use this email instead of mine when you wanna subscribe to a bunch’a spambots.”

“Should I find that offensive, Hank?”

Hank laughed and elbowed Connie in her side. “Shut up.”

* * *

When they had worked together before Connie’s deviancy, Hank had often complained whenever she had tagged along to Jimmy’s bar or a fast food joint. Said that Connie didn’t even need to eat, and was only there to babysit her or get her to eat more salad. She’s seemingly had a change of heart, because now that they lived together, Hank had tried to bring her along whenever she went out to eat.

(Which was twenty-three percent less common than it had been before Connie had moved in. She felt satisfaction.)

Connie never had a reason to refuse, even though she made a note of the change. Which is why she was sitting with her hands folded on her lap, on a barstool in a gay bar that Hank had only gone to a few times since they’d met.

Hank had already had a few drinks. Her face was tinted red. She was laughing, talking to the bartender. A woman named Charlie Barrett, age fourty-one. Hank had greeted her as a friend when they walked in.

Connie was unsure what to do. She didn’t know anyone except for Hank, who was already conversing with someone else. She knew if she just sat there, she would start to make the people around her uncomfortable.

The bartender addressed her. “Hey, do you want something?”

No android needed to drink, and most androids couldn’t. Before the revolution, only the prototype RK line had the capability, due to their advanced sensors that were supposed to be used to analyze evidence.

Hank answered for her. “Give ‘er a martini.”

“Hank, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

The bartender handed Connie her drink. “And I’m sure it ain’t. Bottoms up, kid.”

Connie looked down into the glass, and then followed Hank’s instructions. She drank the martini in one sip, leaving both Charlie and Hank staring at her. Connie wasn’t sure she liked the taste. She couldn’t stop herself from analyzing the contents of the martini, noting the high sugar and alcohol levels.

“Damn. And here I thought you’d be a lightweight. Get her another.”

Connie didn’t know why she was programmed to respond to alcoholic content. She felt her cheeks start to heat up.

She takes a sip of her martini. She thinks that’s more natural then drinking the entire thing at once. Connie blinked twice, looking at Hank through her lashes.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Lieutenant?”

Connie could immediately tell that her flirting didn’t have the intended effect. Hank grimaced, turned away, subconsciously closing herself off.

“‘S not like that, just thought since you’d never drank and all… Maybe it could give ya’ the courage to go talk to someone other than me for once.”

Connie felt her stress raise to thirty-three percent. She didn’t need courage to talk to other people. She talked to more people than Hank did per day, even electing to make conversation with her cashiers and waitresses. She was an android with some of the most up-to-date social programs and behaviors- she was not shy.

“Why did you bring me here, Hank?”

She didn’t know what answer to expect. She didn’t really have one she was looking for in particular.

“Dunno. This was a place I used to visit a lot more when I was younger. Thought you might want to see some of the other company I keep.”

“Why did you stop coming back here?”

“Got too old for it, mostly. No point in putting out my net if nobody’s biting anymore. You, though,” she gestured at Connie with her hand, still holding her glass of whiskey, “are a catch. You could probably get laid here, no problem.”

“Is that why you brought me here? For me to… ‘get laid’?”

Hank chuckled. “If that’s what ya’ want, kid, I’m not stopping you. Make sure to put a sock on the door, though.”

Connie tried to frown, knowing it wouldn’t work. She had never expressed interest in any kind of casual relationship with a stranger, so she didn’t know why Hank would assume this was something she would do. She was happy that Hank brought her here, but she wanted to be there with Hank.

She ran a simulation in her head. Hank bringing Connie here to spend time with her. Hank throwing her arm around Connie’s shoulders. Hank telling Connie stories about when she was younger, which Connie would commentate. Hank laughing, her face only a few inches from Connie’s.

She didn’t know what she could have done differently.

Connie wasn’t used to the effects of alcohol on her system. She thought she had only ran her simulation for a few seconds, but her slowed processing time allowed Hank to whisk her away and try and act as her drunken wingman. It appears her matchmaking technique had been to introduce Connie to the closest available android. She was an HR400 model, with a non-standard hairstyle, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose flannel.

“Hello, my name is Connie. I am a prototype developed by Cyberlife.”

“Hey, I’m Amanda.” Connie’s initial scan of the HR400 had shown her registered name as Traci. It wasn’t uncommon for androids to choose a different name from the one they were given. “You’re cute, do you come here often?”

“I have never been here before. I came here with my partner-” (partner, amanda asked. we’re detectives, connie clarified.) “it seems like she was quick to get rid of me.”

Amanda smiled. “Well, I’m sure we could keep each other busy until then.”

* * *

Hank had been glancing at them from her seat at the bar, smiling as if she was proud of herself. As if she had set Connie up with a nice girl.

“I’m sorry, we really must be going,” said Connie.

“That’s quite alright. I’ll see you around sometime?”

Connie nodded. Amanda held out her hand. It took Connie a second to realize what for.

She didn’t want to interface with Amanda. Didn’t know how she would react if she saw Connie confront the Tracis. She didn’t have to share the entirety of her memories everytime she interfaced with someone, but she didn’t want to risk it. Especially not with the alcohol in her system.

So she stood there, not moving. Still smiling. She wished Hank hadn’t put her in this situation. It took a second for Amanda to take the hint.

She approached Hank. “It’s getting late. We should leave.”

“Huh? Things didn’t go well between you and, uh,” Hank paused.

“Amanda.”

“Right, you didn’t like her?”

“On the contrary, she was quite charming. We exchanged numbers.”

“Shit, don’t let me stop you from getting some tonight.”

“I already said goodbye to her, Lieutenant. Give me your keys.”

Hank stood in the parking lot. She didn’t give Connie her keys. “What’s goin’ on with you, Connie? Why are you so pissed off?”

“I’m not. You are intoxicated. Give me your keys.”

“So’re you.”

“It will not impair my driving.”

It was true. She could easily run some driving subroutines with her background processor power.

Hank didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She gave in, handing Connie her keys.

Connie was glad her LED could not be seen by Hank in the passenger’s seat. She set the car’s route to their home.

“Y’know, you don’t have to do this, for me. I could get a cab. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

Hank didn’t even know the actual reason that she might have ruined Connie’s night. What, Did she expect that Connie was going to take Amanda back to their house? “I would advise you to stop talking, Lieutenant.”

Hank shut up.

* * *

Connie had begun to understand why the Lieutenant drank so often, and so much. Alcohol tasted significantly better the more of it she had.

She realized that this wasn’t a healthy mindset, and added a reminder to herself for tomorrow to remove any alcohol from her system and to spend time restructuring her subroutines and background processes. She closed it. She took another drink.

It took her longer than usual to realize that Hank had approached her. In her hazy mental state, she realized that she probably looked pretty pathetic. An android, sitting alone on a couch, drinking alone.

“Should probably stop drinkin’. ‘S not good for you. Can robots get hungover?”

“No.”

Hank didn’t respond. She sat down next to Connie.

“What’re you thinking about? You’ve been upset ever since we went to that bar.”

“You’re a very astute detective, Hank.”

“Did Amanda say something to you? Cause if she harassed you or something, you can tell me. That shit isn’t gonna fly anymore.”

Connie realized two things.

First, that the Lieutenant wasn’t as astute of a detective as she thought.

Second, that even though Amanda hadn’t made her uncomfortable, she still liked the thought of the Lieutenant getting upset over her. Being protective over her.

“No, she was fine.”

“Alright, it seemed like the two of you were getting along. But you’re not gonna be a doormat anymore, okay Connie? If anyone’s bothering you, you stand up to ‘em, or come to me and I’ll make ‘em understand.”

Connie nodded. She took a very brief second to consider the irony of the situation.

Hank reached out and took the bottle from her hands. She wondered if Hank noticed that she blushed when their fingers touched.

“No more drinking for you tonight. Don’t want you to turn into a sad old alcoholic like I did.”

Connie pouted. It wasn’t a traditional pout, but Hank had gotten better at reading Connie’s body language and microexpressions.

“Come on, up you go.” Hank had wrapped her hands around Connie’s shoulders and waist and lifted her off the coach. “You need to sleep this off. I’ll make you a hangover cure tomorrow.”

“Already told you, androids can’t get hungover.” Hank had guided Connie to her bed.

“You can’t go around, gettin’ drunk just ‘cause you’re upset. I’m serious, I don’t want you windin’ up like me.”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.”

Hank scoffed. “Goodnight, Connie.”

“Goodnight, Hank.”

* * *

It only took a couple of weeks for Connie to be reinstated at the DPD. It wasn’t strictly legal- there were still a huge amount of discussions about the ethics of allowing androids to have jobs, often between Marsha and a table of humans- but there was a lack of personnel. Fowler had hired her because Connie had “experience”, and because she improved the efficiency of Lieutenant Anderson. She was very adamant that Connie was not being hired because she was an android.

Connie felt fortunate that she was rehired. She had started to get bored staying at Hank’s house. She took Sumo on several walks and went on frequent errands, but she had become. Lonely, while Hank was at work.

She hoped that some of the tension between them would dissolve once they returned to their old dynamic. Connie could show that she was Hank’s equal, her partner, and Hank would feel less guilty about Connie doing basic tasks.

Gwen wasn’t happy about Connie’s return, but she didn’t bother her like she used to. She still made comments when Connie passed by, but she didn’t go out of her way to make Connie upset. So, it was a slight improvement.

Hank didn’t seem to think so. “I told ya’, y’gotta stand up for yourself. Tell her to fuck off.”

“Since the rebellion, Gwen has decreased her open disdain for me by a significant amount, as well as ceased to confront me physically. I think she will soon ‘run out of steam’ if I simply leave her alone.”

Hank scoffed. “Sounds like a load of crap to me. Did your conflict resolution program tell you to say that?”

Connie lied. “No.”

“You’ve gotta start saying something when stuff bothers you, Connie.”

Connie thought about that.

Say something when stuff bothers you.

Her stress rose to thirty-seven percent.

Fowler opened the door to her office. “Hank, Connie, get in here!”

They had a new case. There was a string of assaults against androids, all in the same alley near a nightclub. They were being sent to go undercover at the club to try and find any leads, see if anyone suspicious turns up. Despite her proclivities, Hank didn’t seem too happy about the prospect of spending her night in a club. She wasn’t too happy when Connie pointed this out, either.

“Spending my night in some shitty nightclub in stakeout mode doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time, okay?”

“And here I thought you didn’t have any qualms about drinking on the job, Lieutenant.”

Hank flipped her off.

* * *

Connie found herself getting excited about the stakeout. It was no problem for her to quickly set up some surveillance subroutines- setting certain behaviors or key words to trigger her attention- allowing her to devote her processors to spending time with Hank. Her research told her that stakeouts were a buddy cop ‘trope’, so she suspected the night would go well.

She put on some of the clothes that Hank had bought for her. Hank had been upset with her choices, saying they were too close to her Cyberlife outfit, but Connie thought they were stylish.

(Before they left the store, Hank had forced her to buy one pair of pants and one set of sneakers.)

Hank had once again decided to complain about her clothing. “You look way too fancy for the place we’re going to, you’re gonna stand out. You should wear some of my stuff instead.”

“I think if I wore your clothing, I’d look like I was in my pyjamas. Or homeless.”

They compromised on Connie wearing one of Hank’s old flannels with the sleeves rolled up, along with a black undershirt and Connie’s token pair of pants. It reminded her of the outfit Amanda was wearing, but she didn’t point it out.

Hank wore a bright print that Connie hadn’t seen her wear before, along with a nice pair of jeans with a thick belt. Connie could also tell that she was probably wearing boxers, but she thinks that Hank wouldn’t like it if she knew Connie could tell.

It took them seventeen minutes to drive to the club. Connie had never been to a club, and the research she’s done indicated that it didn’t seem like a particularly fun time, to her. She hoped that the excuse of staying back to survey the entire area would be enough to let her and Hank spend their time together, in the quietest corner they could find.

Hank went immediately to the bar, and Connie followed. She ordered a whiskey for herself, and Connie ordered a beer. She looked surprised.

“You’re not the only one of us that can drink on the job, Hank. I’m better at regulating my functions while intoxicated than you are, at least.”

Hank grumbled but didn’t protest. She took a sip of her whiskey.

The club was sadly disappointing to Connie. The music wasn’t her favorite, and most of the people there seemed too intoxicated to be pleasant, or their suspect. She wondered if Hank liked places like this.

“Don’t come to ‘em often, no,” Hank said when she asked. “Even when I was younger, I still preferred places like Jimmy’s.”

Connie ran a simulation in her head, replacing one of the people dancing with her data of younger Hank’s appearance. She tried not to laugh, but the corner of her mouth rose.

“What’s so funny.”

Connie grinned. “Nothing, Lieutenant.”

Suddenly, an android practically stumbled into Connie’s lap. She was a ZR900 model, a new line being produced now that Cyberlife was put under android control. From Connie’s scan of her, she appeared to be slightly intoxicated, which explained the fall. This wasn’t a surprise to Connie; The new androids being released had been given all of Cyberlife’s most advanced features, to allow them to have the largest range of possible experiences. Well, as long as they still resemble humans. Connie realized that several androids would enjoy the experience of having dragon wings, but she can’t see that happening any time soon. There were already humans that were trying to force the government to regulate the abilities of androids; to roll back the superhuman features which had been added by Cyberlife to make human life more efficient. Deemed unfair now that the androids had developed free will.

Connie helped the ZR400 balance herself, putting her in the chair next to her and Hank.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” the ZR400 looked up. “-hey, you’re Connie, right? The android from the rebellion?”

“So much for undercover,” said Hank. She pulled out her phone.

“Yes, I am.” Connie answered. “It is nice to meet you.”

“I’m Olivia,” said the android. Connie forced herself to calm her nerves, to stop her LED from turning yellow. “It’s really nice to see another android here. I mean, I’m only a few days old, and I just came out to try to meet some new people. It’s not easy.” She laughed. Connie understood. She had more life experience than most, and she was still feeling the effects of having sentience suddenly thrust upon her.

“Yes, I understand the struggle. The transition has not been easy, but we are making progress.”

From the corner of her vision, Connie saw Hank roll her eyes. She sent her a text.

23:04: Do you have a problem, Lieutenant?  
23:04: your flirting is terrible  
23:05: I am not flirting.  
23:05 olivia is

Connie was glad she couldn’t frown. Olivia spoke. “I know there are some humans that are more accepting of us. I wonder if I will ever meet a human to start a relationship with.” Her eyes flicked between Connie and Hank.

“A relationship?” Connie asked.

“Yes, like the one between you and the Lieutenant,” said Olivia. “Seeing the two of you here, out in the open, it’s really comforting.”

Connie felt a new emotion, localized in her chest. When she heard the Lieutenant choke on her drink, she recognized it as vindication.

“We’re not- it’s not like that. We’re police partners, that’s- that’s all.”

Connie felt her stress rise to forty-one percent.

Olivia looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll let you two finish your evening.”

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to scare ‘er off. Feel like a piece of shit.”

Connie tilted her head. “Why?”

“Cause of all that stuff she said, about people not accepting androids and findin’ a partner. Didn’t want to crush her hopes or anything.”

“Then why did you tell her, Hank?”

“What d’ya mean, why did I ‘tell her’? You wanted me to pretend we’re lovers or something?”

“It is unlikely we will ever see Olivia again. If you didn’t want to crush her spirits, it wouldn’t be hard for you to lie about our relationship status.”

Hank looked at Connie like she was crazy. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m surprised you didn’t gag at the thought of it. I figured that or your LED would’ve given it away.”

Connie’s stress rose to forty-six percent. The thought of what, exactly? Being in a relationship with Hank? It wouldn’t have been the first time that Connie had simulated that possibility. She didn’t think it was any reason to want to throw up, if she was able to.

“I don’t understand your reaction. First you feel sympathy for that android, but then you show disgust at the thought of an interspecies relationship. Did I do something to upset you?”

Despite her best attempts to understand the situation, Hank only seemed to get more incredulous. “No, it’s got nothing to do with you, Connie. Just didn’t want to gross you out by implying you’d shack up with someone like me. S’got nothing to do with android and human relationships, I couldn’t care less.”

“I’m not disgusted by the idea of dating you, Lieutenant.”

Hank looked up at her. “Uh-huh.”

“I find you very attractive.”

“Alright, that’s enough. We’re not talking about this anymore.”

She feigned ignorance to the social boundaries she was crossing. She found that Hank often dismissed it when she broke taboos if she thought it was due to the fact that she was an android. “Why not?”

“We’re on the clock. It’s not an appropriate conversation.”

Connie couldn’t argue with that, technically.

They gave up waiting for the perp to show up at one o’clock and went home. Connie didn’t need to sleep, but she had begun to understand the mental exhaustion that comes from being at work all day, and was looking forward to spending time in stasis.

She decided to mess with Hank first, though. Once she was in their bedroom, she began to take off her jeans.

“God, Connie, give me a warning first!” Hank covered her eyes with one hand.

“I’m sorry Hank, but I seem to recall you getting upset with me for trying to go to bed in jeans, even though it causes me physical discomfort. I was just trying to be considerate.”

“Considerate my ass. Put on some pants, Connie.”

“I was wondering if I could borrow a pair of your boxers,” she asked smoothly.

Hank spluttered. Even after deviancy, Connie felt her software instability rise. “Uh, kid, they’d be way too big for you.”

“You’re right, I forgot. I guess I’ll have to wear these to bed.”

“Do not,” Hank said, “go to bed in your panties.”

“Why not? I know humans often go to sleep in various states of undress, even sleeping in the nude.”

Connie noticed that blood had rushed to Hank’s face. “Put on some pants, please, Connie.”

Connie was satisfied with Hank’s reaction, so she complied. She put on Hank’s old sweatpants, a pair that she had found for Connie that she claimed to be from when she was still at the Academy. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Every part of her outfit was made up of Hank’s clothes. She liked how she looked, clothes too big on her frame. Wondered if Hank liked it too.

She wanted to go to bed with Hank. To fall asleep next to her, instead of on the pull out couch that the Lieutenant had been letting her sleep on. She wasn’t able to find any potential preconstructed futures where Hank agreed to let her stay.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“It’s Hank, Connie.”

“Goodnight, Hank.”

* * *

The next day, an android came in to talk to them.

She was only a few days old. Her facial build didn’t resemble any androids Connie had registered in her databases. She had thick black hair and dark brown eyes. Most telling, however, were the modifications that she had. She had an array of geometric tattoos, some on her face, most of which appeared to be made out of some sort of LED. She had a small ketchup stain on her shirt, indicating that she was able to eat, or potentially that she worked as a culinary android. When she moved her head, Connie could see that the underside of her hair was a shiny blend of colors that reminded her of an oil spill. She had a chip in her throat which Connie knew allowed her to change her voice.

Connie also noticed that she showed signs of recent physical damage on her face, chest, and arm. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what happened.

“Hello, I’m Sydney.”

Hank spoke first. “Hey, Sydney. Would you mind telling us what happened?”

“I was attacked while walking on my own back to my house. I was out late, I had been spending time at a friend’s place. We had known each other before we got released.”

“Would you mind telling us what you remember about your attacker? I understand that it may be traumatic for you, but any information could help us prevent this from happening to someone else,” said Connie.

“I can just show you, if you want.” She removed the skin on her hand, revealing transparent plastic and colorful wiring beneath the artificial skin. Another modification.

Connie grabbed her hand. The data transfer was completed in under a second.

“Our culprit is Jake Wilson, a thirty-six year old man, five foot nine with dark brown hair. He attacked Sydney in the same alley that the other victims reported being assaulted in. His address is 18200 Appoline Street, Detroit, MI 48235.”

“Shit, how come she didn’t know that?”

“As an investigative model, I have access to police and government databases that most androids do not, to assist me in identifying culprits.”

“Huh. Just thought all of you were psychic, or something.”

Sydney spoke. “So, you found him? Can I go?”

“Well, we need you to stick around for a little bit while we fill out some paperwork.”

“There is no need, Lieutenant. From interfacing with her, I have all the necessary information we will need to fill out our report.”

“I guess you’re free to go, then. We’ll contact you once we arrest Wilson.”

Sydney nodded, thanking both of them again before leaving.

“You get started on that paperwork, I’ll send a warrant to the judge so we can arrest this guy.”

“I have already done both, Lieutenant.”

Hank stared at Connie. “You androids really are going to replace us all, huh.”

“If you want me to artificially inflate my processing time to make you feel better, I can.”

“No, shit, don’t bother. I don’t need you to slow yourself down to placate my ego. Don’t have much to do now except sit on our ass and wait for the warrant to go through.”

“It is six o’clock on a Sunday evening, Lieutenant. I recommend that we head home.”

“Shit, I finally like your advice. Let’s get going.”

They were stopped by Reed on the way out, because Hank can’t catch a break.

“Clocking out early, Hank? Gonna head home to have a nice dinner with you and the wife?”

Hank flipped her off and kept walking out the door. “I’m sick of people actin’ like we’re an item. It’s happened twice now.”

“You know what they say, Lieutenant. Two times is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.”

“Better not happen a third time.”

Connie got in the passenger’s seat. It was only a short drive to Hank’s house.

“Hey, Connie.”

“Yes, Hank?” Connie found that Hank did not consider the work parking lot to be a part of work.

“You ever consider getting those Cyberlife mods? Like the ones that Sydney had?”

“I haven’t considered it, no.”

“Y’could probably talk to Marsha about getting your mouth fixed. Wouldn’t have to smile all the time.”

“I could,” Connie took a moment to choose her words. “But I’m not sure I would want to. My reputation precedes me, like my reputation as the deviant hunter.

“Don’t you want to leave all that behind you, though? You could go somewhere, start a new life without all this…” Hank paused. “Baggage.”

“I have a fair share of unpleasant memories, but on the most part, my time working at the DPD is not something I regret, even if I did work against my own kind.” Connie looked at Hank. “I don’t want to start a different life, Hank.”

Hank didn’t look at her. They were home. “Come on, I bet Sumo’s hungry,” she said.

Sumo was hungry, and very excited to see Hank and Connie. Hank was more than happy to give Sumo some attention. She settled into the couch with a beer in her hand, watching TV and petting Sumo as Connie worked on cooking dinner. Hank had stopped complaining about Connie cooking dinner for her, since she found it harder to deal with Connie’s nagging about Hank’s own dietary choices. She eventually gave in and let Connie cook whatever she wanted, as long as it tasted good.

Tonight, she was making spaghetti. She wasn’t able to taste the food herself, but it didn’t stop her from preconstructing a situation where Hank entered the kitchen to have a taste, hugging Connie from behind. One where they were in a relationship, even though it went unsaid.

To say the least, it didn’t happen. Connie turned off the stove and told the Lieutenant her dinner was ready.

She enjoyed spending time with Hank outside of work. Connie liked to think back to the first time she entered Hank’s house and was met with hostility, and compare it to now. She liked their current relationship better.

She set the table and sat down across from Hank. Connie found that Hank got upset when she didn’t sit with her for dinner, even though she couldn’t eat. She had started buying iced tea, so she would have something to drink while Hank ate her dinner.

She waited for Hank to take a bite of her spaghetti before speaking. “I do find you attractive, Hank.”

Hank started choking on her spaghetti. “What the fuck, Connie. You can’t just say shit like that out of nowhere.”

“The last time I brought it up, you said it was an inappropriate conversation to have at work. We’re home now.”

“Right, I forgot about that. Shit, you really don't forget anything, do you?”

Connie did not like that Hank was changing topics. “I have several petabytes of memory storage, which you already know, Hank,” she said in a way that her programs classified as defensive.

Hank laughed. “With all of your fancy processing power, it’s a wonder your systems haven’t realized there’s more to life than caring for an old woman.”

Connie’s stress rose to fifty-three percent. “I don’t like it when you speak like that about yourself, Harper. You’re important to me.”

Hank rolled her eyes. Connie’s stress rose to fifty-five percent.

“There was a reason that you were taken hostage at the Cyberlife tower, instead of attacking me directly. Amanda knew that you were important to me. She was depending on the fact that I would sacrifice my mission for you.”

“Hold up- who is Amanda?” Hank asked.

“Amanda Stern. She used to be a professor of artificial intelligence at the University of Michigan. The version of Amanda I’m referring to is an artificial intelligence, one who I gave updates to about the case. She wasn’t happy with my deviancy.”

“Fuck, so you just got some AI in your head that works for Cyberlife? Or is it more of a Skype kinda thing, or whatever.”

“No, we talk in my mind palace most of the time. Or, we used to. She hasn’t shown up since the rebellion ended.”

“Shit, I should have known. Wouldn’tve tried to set you up with a girl named Amanda, that’s for sure.”

“I never told you, and you’ve always reacted poorly when you found out more about the way androids worked. It didn’t seem important.”

“Wait, androids? Does every one of you guys have some Cyberlife AI in your heads?”

“No, I’m reasonably certain that it’s just me. She was always focused on me solving the deviant case for Cyberlife. I’ve never seen another android mention her.”

“So it was just you, huh. They didn’t trust you to handle the case on your own?”

“I don’t think it was a matter of trust, it was more like… they wanted to have control over the investigation. She was a failsafe.” Connie noticed that Hank had become visibly angry and had stopped eating her spaghetti. “Did I upset you, Hank? Please eat more spaghetti.”

“It’s not your fault. I just don’t like hearing how you used to be treated, s’all.”

“I was treated like a machine because everyone, including myself, considered me to be one. I don’t have any residual resentment for Cyberlife or Amanda.” Well, not a ton.

“For the record, I’m sorry for how I treated you. You said it yourself, I didn’t care much about learning more about you. Didn’t see the point in it. I was wrong about that, so. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think poorly of you, Hank. In fact, I actively encouraged you to treat me as a machine, so it would be hypocritical of me to expect an apology.”

“Looks like you’re getting one anyways.”

“I didn’t intend to make you upset. You have nothing to apologize for.”

This did not have the intended effect. “Well, tough shit, Connie. I care about you, which means I’m not gonna be happy when you get hurt.” She took another bite of her spaghetti. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me just so I won’t get upset. Thanks for dinner, I’m gonna go to bed.”

Connie barely responded to Hank leaving with a simple, “Goodnight, Hank.” She remained seated at the table.

She wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. Whenever Hank got upset with her, she always added the interaction to her neural network, which was designed to analyze and help avoid those kinds of situations in the future. However, the more she tried to make the Lieutenant happy, the less success she was having.

She no longer understood Hank. When they first met, it was simple to understand Hank’s feelings toward her. Hank didn’t like androids, and it was easy enough for her to change her approach to best accomplish her mission. Now, she doesn’t have a mission, and she doesn’t understand why Hank was so upset with her.

Connie couldn’t get Hank’s words out of her mind. She had said that she cared about Connie. She had gotten upset because Connie had been hurt. And yet, the conversation still seemed like it had ended poorly. And Connie didn’t know how to fix it.

She looked at Hank’s plate. She had eaten most of the spaghetti, but there was still some left. She hadn’t cleaned her plate before heading to bed. Connie knew that Hank would probably be upset with her if she cleaned up after her, but there was no reason for Connie to leave the plate out. It would only get harder to wash the next day, and it would be no trouble for Connie to clean the plate.

Hank cared about her. She had said it herself. But every time Connie tried to show her affection in return, it made Hank upset. The conversation had ended a few minutes ago, but Connie still had the urge to try and fix things between her and the Lieutenant.

Deviancy had enlightened Connie about a few aspects of the human condition. The first, that tense situations tended to create more stress in a self-perpetuating cycle. At least, that is what she felt about her relationship with the Lieutenant. As her stress levels rose, the less options she had to improve the situation, and it because more likely that her attempts would be received with hostility.

Second, she finally understood the concept of pride. She wondered if she was always like this, or if her company had rubbed off on her, but she had developed a stubborn streak. She did not want to be the one to approach the other first.

She realized that, unlike Hank’s frequently changing mood, her own emotional state seemed to build over time. Whenever Hank made a comment dismissing her, she felt her stress rise, but it didn’t go down once the situation was over. The reminder of her relationship status with the Lieutenant didn’t go away; she could feel each time when their relationship grew more tense burned into her memory, endless places to run reconstructions and try and figure out where she went wrong.

(It was the most frustrating when Connie couldn’t seem to change the Lieutenant’s mind. When she didn’t know what made Hank so upset, that she couldn’t figure out what she should have done differently in the first place. This type of argument was becoming more and more common.)

She put Hank’s plate in the dishwasher before going to bed.

* * *

 

Connie was supposed to only forgo the mission to save Lieutenant Harper Anderson’s life if there was a less than thirty-two percent chance that she would survive. It was the first part of her code that she had overwritten- her smallest deviancy.

They had let their guard down when going to Wilson’s house. They hadn’t expected to be met with open fire. Connie had put herself between Hank and Wilson. She was shot once, in the shoulder, hitting no vital components, and repairs wouldn’t be hard. It was a much better outcome than if Hank had been injured, which she surely would be if Connie had not intervened. And they had arrested Wilson.

So she didn’t understand why they were having this conversation, again. She would much rather be talking to Hank about the unsolved crime podcasts she had recommended, or perhaps about the upcoming Knights of the Black Death reunion tour.

Hank was still yelling. “You can’t do this shit, Connie! How many times do I have to tell you, stop sacrificing your life for me at the drop of a hat! You’re not expendable!”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Lieutenant, that I have a much higher chance of surviving open fire than you do. In the event of my build’s death, I can be uploaded into a new body. You can’t.”

“That’s no excuse! You’re just as much of a person I am, I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger for me. I didn’t realize that I’d have to spell that shit out for ya, thought you’d have the common sense to not try and get yourself killed after a week.”

“I’m being pragmatic. You’re being irrational.”

“Yeah, well, humans are like that sometimes. They don’t like seeing their loved ones die.”

“Do they have a penchant for hypocrisy as well? Because I survived, but it was not pleasant for me to preconstruct all of the ways I could have failed to save your life, Lieutenant.” Connie felt her stress rising. It was at sixty-seven percent.

“That doesn’t mean you can take a bullet for me, Connie!”

“Why not?”

Hank growled, “What the fuck do you mean, ‘why not’?”

“I don’t feel pain, so there is no issue if a non-vital component is damaged. Even if I am shot, my memory can be easily re-uploaded into a new body. I can get damaged and survive, you can’t.”

“Can you hear yourself? You really think I’d be okay with you dying for me? I thought we’d established that my life wasn’t any more important than yours.”

Seventy-two percent.

Her LED changed to red. “I’m a machine, Hank! I might be alive, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am still an android, and I have different capabilities than you do.”

“Yeah, you’re just a fuckin’ machine, designed to accomplish a task. Don’t remind me.”

“I don’t understand why you get so upset when I remind you that I’m an android. It’s a statement of biological reality, nothing else.”

“You asked me about my son, Connie! You stopped me from offin’ myself at fifty-three and comforted me about my son’s death, and you’re telling me that was just a line of code to you? It was just some programmer who wrote all the stuff you said about Cole?”

Eighty percent. “Everything is just a line of code to me, Lieutenant! I am made out of ‘lines of code’. You are the only person who is implying that means my feelings are any less legitimate.”

Hank refused to look at her. They were parked in her driveway, they had been for three minutes. She got out of the car. “Come on, I bet Sumo needs a walk.”

“I can take her on a walk with you-”

“No, no, I’ll do it. Anyways, I need the time alone.”

Hank put Sumo on a leash and walked out, closing the front door behind her. Connie sat by herself on the couch and wondered why her model had been given the capability to cry.

__

Hank came home thirty minutes later. She hung up her jacket and took off Sumo’s leash. “Connie, are you there? I was thinking about what I said, and-”

She paused. She saw Connie, who was still sitting in the same position on the couch, and still crying.

Connie’s analyzers must have been getting rusty, because before she knew it, Hank had pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Connie. I fucked up, I shouldn’t have- you were right. Just ‘cause you have a calculator for a brain, doesn’t make you any less alive.”

Connie sniffed. “00 0100 1011”.

She felt Hank laugh. “Shut up.” She held Connie’s cheek in her hand.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Harper. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live in a world without you in it, either.”

She pulled away. “God, you can’t… can’t just say stuff like that.”

Connie wanted to ask why not. Wanted to say that she meant it. Instead, she asked, “Would it be alright if I slept in your bed tonight, Hank?”

She felt Hank tense. She registered that Hank’s facial temperature had risen.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kid.”

This time, she did ask, “Why not?”

“Because... god, Connie, just listen to me for once, alright?”

Connie said nothing. She watched Hank get off the couch and walk towards her room. She remained on the couch.

Her stress rose to eighty-six percent.

* * *

Connie woke up at seven fifty five am to make pancakes for Hank. Blueberry again, since she had enjoyed the recipe last time. Hank had gotten out of bed to walk Sumo at eight thirteen, and the pancakes were finished at eight fifteen, leaving Connie approximately eight minutes until Hank and Sumo would return.

She decided to make Hank’s bed for her while she waited. She walked into Hank’s bedroom. Her scan noticed that there was a letter on Hank’s desk, that she had been writing the night before.

If Connie had been strictly following her original programming, she would have ignored the desk and simply made Hank’s bed. But she was a deviant, which caused certain errors in her software. She read the letter.

Connie, I think that you should get your own place. It’s not that I don’t like you, or anything, you’re great, but I think you’re getting too close I think that I’m too much of an influence on you. You should be meeting new people, not hanging out with some washed-up police lieutenant. I think it would be better for the both of us if

Connie felt her stress rise to ninety-three percent. Above optimal levels. This was the sort of stress that made androids go deviant in the first place.

Warnings clouded her visions. She was recommended to go into immediately de-escalate the situation, to remove herself from the stressor, or (as a last resort) to go into stasis mode.

She was warned of the effects that an elevated state of stress would cause to her system. It would cause her to behave irrationally, lose full control of her functions, and possibly self destruct.

She knew she should probably put the letter back and leave the room looking unentered. She crumpled the paper up into a ball and tossed it in the trash, closing the door behind her.

Hank returned home at eight twenty five. “Those pancakes smell fuckin’ amazing, Connie,” she yelled from the door.

Connie stood in the kitchen next to the table.

“You’re too good to me,” Hank said, rounding the corner and taking a seat. “Y’know, I-”

She froze. She must’ve noticed Connie’s red LED.

“Shit, kid, are you okay?”

“Please do not call me kid.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said, please do not call me kid, Lieutenant.”

“Listen, I don’t mean to suggest- I mean, I know you’re like an adult, or whatever. You’re just younger than me, y’know, and you don’t have a lot of experience.”

“I am younger than you from a physical standpoint, yes. But I was coded to be your partner; an equal. I am fully mature and I have a knowledge base that puts me, mentally, at the same level as an above-average human adult.”

Hank didn’t like where this conversation was headed. She knew from experience.

“I don’t know, Hank. I don’t know why you keep pushing me away whenever I try to get close to you. I thought it was like when we first met and you disliked me; I thought that your attitude would change with time. But as time has gone on, it seems you have only become more determined to get rid of me.”

“Hey, wait, I’m not trying to get rid of you. I just think that you should be able to branch out without worryin’ about hurting my feelings.”

“That is what I mean! I have never been anything but affectionate towards you, I have never expressed any dislike for my living situation or your company, and yet you still think that I would be better off living apart from you.”

“Shit, I’m just bein’ decent. Can’t expect you to hang around me forever.”

“I don’t want you to be okay with me moving out! I don’t understand why you keep choosing to ignore my obvious displays of attraction. If I were human, you would have read romantic subtext into my actions right away- my intentions have been more than clear. But for some reason you pretend that you don’t understand why I would choose to spend my time with you!”

Never was it more apparent to Connie the difference between them, then when Hank spoke next. Even the most basic of androids had a personality filter that would make suggestions for the best course of action. It was something that Hank obviously lacked.

She laughed, as if to defuse some of the tension. She spoke. “That’s what you’re so upset about? You were trying to flirt with an old lady? Shit, I thought that was just stuff added in by Cyberlife to make you more appealing, or whatever.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Connie’s LED spun. “I have run dozens of simulations of this situation in my head to try to find the most optimal approach, if you were drunk or sober, if you reciprocated my feelings or not, but I never factored in that you would have dismissed my feelings so completely.” Connie felt herself holding back tears. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to look at the Lieutenant.

“I am a fully functional, deviated RK800. I am capable of processing data and making judgements at a rate much faster than what is possible for the human brain, and I don’t appreciate my actions being dismissed as mistakes by someone who refuses to listen to what I have to say.” She took an unnecessary breath.

“My emotions, my actions… they aren’t residual effects of Cyberlife’s programming or some sort of error. Even if you refuse to believe it, everything I say is something that I want to say. I’m.” She paused. “I’m a person, Harper.” It was quieter than before.

Any anger that was in the Lieutenant’s eyes was replaced by an emotion that Connie classified as distress. She grabbed Connie and pulled her in close, wrapping her arms around Connie’s back. She put her head on Connie’s shoulder.

“Shit, ‘m sorry Connie. I never meant to imply that it wasn’t you in there. ‘M sorry for not taking your feelings seriously. I didn’t even register it as- I mean, with you being so out of my league and all…”

Hank was still being self-deprecating, but Connie had the feeling that she could change her mind. The right side of her lip quirked upwards. “I do not care much for ‘playing the field’ as it were, and I’m not particularly interested in any members of those teams.”

“You really want to tell me that you were made to be attracted to old bulldykes.”

“I was, in fact. I was made to be your partner. I can’t think of anything more romantic than that.”

“Corny. They program you to be bad at flirting too?”

“It seems that I am the only one putting in the effort. I would love to learn by example, Lieutenant.”

Hank blushed. “Shit, it’s been a while. Haven’t had to pick up girls like you for twenty years.” Connie didn’t say anything. “I’m fuckin’ rusty, okay?”

Connie leaned in. “It’s alright, I have programs designed to,” she closed her eyes, “compensate.”

They kissed. It was nice.

Hank pulled away from the kiss first. “Did you, uh,” she searched for the words. “Like that?”

Connie waited a moment. Hank’s heart rate had increased. She had put her hand on Connie’s cheek. She felt Hank’s gaze on her, as if there was nothing else.

She thought back to when Hank had barely spared her a second glance, flipping her off at the bar where they had met.

“Yes,” she said. She did.

She may not be using the same definition that Hank was, but she didn’t think she was lying. Hank just didn’t understand that Connie could find pleasure in the way Hank reacted to her. Didn’t seem to realize how human it was to like being liked.

Hank brushed some of her loose hairs behind her ear. Her hand was heavy against Connie’s cheek. She leaned into it. What she liked most about deviancy, she thought, was the ability to think of herself as a person, that things happened to, instead of a machine.

Connie realized it was the point in the evening that one of them would need to escalate things, if things were to be escalated. She decided to let Hank make the decision. She didn’t care either way.

Hank leaned back, looked away. “Listen, I know you don’t need to sleep, but would you like to, uh. Come with me to bed? It’s getting late, and I assume you don’t want to just stand out in the hallway on stand-by…”

“I would love to, Hank.”

She let Hank lead her to the bedroom. She turned on a lamp.

“Do you, uh, want to change, or…”

Connie looked down. She was wearing an outfit that she had chosen to make herself look, in her own words, sophisticated with a hint of slutty. It wasn’t an outfit that any human would want to wear to bed. She pulled her blouse over her head.

“Connie, we talked about this!” Hank turned around and covered her eyes. Connie wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or upset. “Here, I’ll get you something to wear.”

Hank rummaged through her closet and found one of her old band T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. She handed them both to Connie, her other hand still covering her eyes.

Connie changed. She folded her other clothes neatly and placed them on a chair in Hank’s room. She decided to wait until tomorrow morning to do the laundry.

**Author's Note:**

> The original end for this was going to end with this scene:
> 
> “Hey, Hank?” Connie’s voice was muffled.
> 
> “What’s up?”
> 
> “Why did you leave me a note? I would have expected you to have texted or emailed me, you have in the past.”
> 
> “Bluths always leave a note.”
> 
> Connie’s LED spun yellow. “Is that a reference to ‘Arrested Development’?”
> 
> The words Arrested Development would link to a blogspot with a review of the first episode of Arrested Development, from Connie’s point of view. The only other post would be my commission of lesbian Hankcon from Menem, which would be edited to have a similar two-color pattern, which was actually coordinates to a building in Detroit. The name of this building would be the password to a locked tumblr account, which is found in the source code of the blogspot code. This blog would actually be the start of a year long ARG, which would be made to promote my lesbian robot buddy cop novel which I wrote, all similarities to any existing properties unintentional.
> 
> End-end notes:
> 
> Detroit: Become Human is a bad game and I hate it. If any of the things I said about robot psychology or physiology conflict with the established canon of the game, the game can get fucked, what I said was probably better. As soon as I scrub the names off of this baby I am going to get rid of biocomponents so fast.
> 
> End-end-end notes:
> 
> I write Connor and Connie differently because I’m pretentious and i want them to be siblings. Connor is like Kwang Soo and Connie is like Min Young. Connor is gay, buys embroidered aprons off of Etsy, joins some straight women’s morning jogging group and book club by accident, and is canonically asexual. Connie is Akane from Psycho Pass, but I’ve only ever watched six episodes of Psycho Pass when I was stoned six months ago.


End file.
